Worries about Addison and Carson hovered over me when I grabbed a quick lunch to eat at my desk from Espresso Yourself, giving Makayla a very brief synopsis of what had transpired since we last spoke.
Back at my desk, a phone message from Trey allowed me to set those anxieties aside for a while. “Hey Mom,” his voice sang in my ear. “Grandma told me how you’ve been playing detective when she called to reschedule our dinner. When you get here, I’ll take you to Marlette’s cabin to look for this notebook Iris mentioned.” He chuckled. “Apparently Marlette filled it with notes about a big project and sketches of what he called the Library of Alexandria; at least that’s what he told Iris. She said it had a red cover, and I know the one you found is brown, so maybe it’s still at his cabin. Thought I’d give you a heads-up. See you tonight.”
As I hung up the phone, I couldn’t help wondering why Iris had suddenly remembered this other notebook. Why hadn’t she told me about it before? At the co-op tonight, I’d be sure to ask her.
Visions of finding the notebook interfered with my concentration as I waded through scores of queries, eager for the workday to end so I could head up the mountain.
When five o’clock finally arrived, I was the first to leave the agency. Hopping on my scooter, I raced past Center Park, but my momentum was brought to a halt when the traffic light at Redbud and Lavender Lane turned red just as I approached the intersection. Impatiently, I tapped my fingers on the handlebars.
Mountain Road was potholed and wound its way up the steepincline. My little scooter had to work hard, and I rode diligently to ensure I didn’t skid around the many curves. I was relieved to finally arrive under the willow branch arch with the Red Fox Co-op sign.
As I parked my bike, I inhaled the mountain air. A strong sense of Marlette’s presence seized me, and I hoped I’d unearth the red notebook. If it was filled with drawings of the Library of Alexandria, then it might also contain an outline or character sketches from his novel.
Running my fingers through my hair, I headed into the clearing. The woman who was weaving hemp the first time I visited was once again sitting in her chair, working on a hammock. Jasper walked out of the barn and, catching sight of me, raised his hand in greeting.
“Welcome, Ms. Wilkins. We’re looking forward to having you join us for dinner. Trey should be back soon.”
“Oh. I was hoping to take a walk with him.” Disappointment deflated my shoulders. “Is Iris around?”
“She’s checking on our beehives, and Trey’s gone to the creek to fill up some canteens. You can meet him there if you’d like.” He pointed to a path leading away from the campfire pit. It was the same one Iris had used to take me to Marlette’s cabin.
“I’ll do that, thanks.” I started off in the direction of the trail.
Jasper raised an arm as I passed. “Be sure you stay on the path,” he said with a smile. “We don’t want you turning an ankle on a root.”
As I hiked along the trail, the shadows lengthened. In the gloom, the foreboding I’d experienced earlier returned, but I tried to ignore it, knowing I’d be meeting up with Trey soon.
After a few minutes, I spied the laurel bush where Marlette had left poems for Iris. A narrow path veered off to the right, and I recognized it as the way to Marlette’s cabin. I decided to explore, figuring that Trey would know to look for me there.
I hastened down the trail, brushing aside overgrown bushes and low-hanging boughs. Twigs cracked under my feet, and branches raked my arms. I was hot and sweaty and had to constantly swat at aggressive mosquitoes as I trudged through the shrubbery. As I stopped to scratch a painful bite, I heard the distinct snap of a twig to my left.
I froze, my disquiet returning full force. I called nervously into the greenery, “Trey? Is that you?”
A crow cawed and a squirrel chattered from the canopy overhead. Other than that, it was quiet.
I peered into the woods to my left. Thin trees and scraggly shrubs cast elongated shadows, but I saw no movement. I hurried the rest of the way to the clearing where Marlette’s cabin stood.
In the dusky light, Marlette’s abode looked decrepit and far too isolated. A fire pit was overgrown with weeds and lent an extra dose of abandonment to the grassy area outside the cabin. The stream echoed a forlorn sound in this lonely place, and I called out Trey’s name again. My voice was swallowed by the woods, and I received no reply. Certain that I’d hear my son when he came nearer, I approached the cabin.
A spiderweb stretched from a tree to the frame of the cabin door, blocking my way. Its creator sat in the center, fat and sinister, busily wrapping the corpse of a dead moth in a sticky, silken coffin. I wiped the strands away and moved forward.